


Guilt

by Sam_Eller



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Love, Brothers, Guilty Dean, Guilty Sam, Hurt Sam, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean, Teenchesters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:46:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3382013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_Eller/pseuds/Sam_Eller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of a hunt gone wrong, Sam and Dean both struggle with guilt as they work to look after each other. Teenchesters. Hurt/Worried/Guilty/Sam and Protective/Caring/Guilty/Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean looked tired.

Exhausted.

I could tell by the slump in his shoulder, the dark smudges under his eyes, and the complete lack of insults or inappropriate jokes.

And it was my fault.

My fault that he was wearing himself out; that he was spending his summer working his ass off and taking care of me.

I had screwed up.

We were on a hunt, Dean and I were running from the monster of the week, and I tripped.

Like the klutz that I am, I tripped.

The supernatural animal got a hold of my leg and snapped it in three places.

It was bad.

It took a month of casting and then weeks of physical therapy and it was the kind of injury that even Winchesters don't screw with.

On the bright side, I was getting to spend the majority of the summer in the same location, but that wasn't much when it meant Dean was stuck working all day every day to pay for the medical bills.

My medical bills.

Dad checked us into a shockingly nice hotel and paid it up for a couple months. A few weeks ago he left us all the cash he had and went out of state, chasing down a lead on the demon. Unfortunately John's money didn't last us very long, and Dean was forced to find work.

We couldn't use insurance fraud because this wasn't a patch-and-run situation, even Dad agreed with that. So we had to pay out of pocket for all the appointments, medication, and physical therapy.

It was expensive.

Really fricken expensive.

Dean was working eight hours a day, and usually had some overtime on top of that. The only day he ever had off was Sunday, most of which he'd spend sleeping or hanging out with me. Every morning before work he drove me to physical therapy and then brought me back to the hotel before heading off to the movie theatre where he had a job as a janitor.

I frowned, turning my head to the right and staring at Dean sprawled across his bed.

He was so tired, hadn't even bothered changing when he got home. I pretended not to hear him when he came in late, knowing that he would feel bad if he woke me. My brother had entered the room, locked the door, checked the salt-line, pulled the blanket up further over me, and then collapsed onto his bed. Dean hadn't even bothered to remove his shoes, I observed, my frown becoming deeper as my guilt grew.

No eighteen year old should have that much responsibility.

I shook my head with a sigh and began to carefully shimmy off the end of the bed.

I was glad the cast had finally been removed last week, but my leg still hurt like hell and I had to use either crutches or a cane to get around. I preferred the cane, it was much less cumbersome, but the crutches caused less pain.

My two options were leaning up against the wall beside me, and I debated them both before reaching out for the cane and slowly leveraging myself up off the mattress. I bit back the groan of pain my body desired to release as I came to a standing position and limped heavily towards the bathroom.

I entered the acceptably clean washroom and closed the door softly behind me, trying not to wake my brother. I did my best to relieve myself and brush my teeth without falling over. Everything went smoothly until I attempted to wash my hands. I leaned the cane against the sink and balanced on one leg as I turned the taps on, but as I reached for the soap my cane was knocked to the ground. I rolled my eyes in frustration.

"Typical." I muttered under my breath, drying off before grabbing onto the counter with one hand and stretching down to the ground with the other.

Crouching was a difficult thing to do with the use of only one leg, and it complicated even further by my inability to bend the right one. I may have finally gotten rid of that stupid cast, but it was replaced with a contraption that forced the injured limb to remain in an entirely extended position.

The doctor's called it a brace, I thought of it more as a plastic torture device.

I almost had the cane in my grasp, when I lost my very delicate balance, and hit the floor, hard.

"Shit." I hissed between clenched teeth, my hands wrapping around my thigh, holding my leg steady and willing the pain to go away.

Less than a second later a loud knock sounded on the door.

"Sammy? You alright in there."

Dean, his voice gruff from sleep and laced with concern.

"Yeah. I'm fine." I groaned, taking deep breaths as I continued to grip the aching limb.

"You don't sound fine." Dean said, I could tell that his hand was on the doorknob, already turning it part way.

I tried to get back to my feet, so that I wouldn't appear so pathetic when Dean came bursting into the room like I knew he was eager to do. It wasn't happening, I gave up trying to stand and slumped back against the wall.

"I uuhh… I need some help." Before I finished speaking the door was already swinging open. My older brother immediately scanned the room, his eyes quickly finding me stretched out on the floor.

"You fall?" He asked, immediately stepping closer, his gaze scrutinizing as he checked me over.

I nodded.

"You okay?" My brother questioned, looking pointedly at my braced leg.

"Yeah." I sighed, reaching up and holding onto his forearms as he got a firm grip on my elbows.

"On three." Dean said, waiting for my nod of agreement before counting it out slowly and pulling me to my feet.

I bit back a groan for the second time that morning and grabbed the cane my older brother placed in my hand.

He maintained a steadying hold as I found my balance.

"You good?"

I nodded, indicating I was able to keep myself vertical for the time being.

Dean left a hand on my elbow as I limped from the room, not removing his touch until I was seated on my bed.

"Sorry for waking you." I apologized sincerely.

Dean shrugged, as if it was nothing, as if he wasn't in desperate need of some rest.

"You've got to be more careful man. You don't want to break that leg again."

I nodded, because of course he was right. The last thing we needed were more hospital bills.

"You take your meds yet?" My brother asked.

"Not yet." I replied. "But I can—

Before I could offer to get them myself, Dean was already returning with the pill bottle and a glass of water.

I eyed the medication nervously.

They were the new ones we just got this week. Now that the cast was off and I was in physio, my leg was experiencing a different kind of pain, due to the stretching of the muscles and what not.

These particular drugs made me nauseous, one of their numerous side-effects. Normally I wouldn't complain, because I'll take an upset stomach over that kind of pain any day, but as it turns out, puking is much more difficult to do when you've got your leg trapped in a brace; and even the drugs kept the muscles in the injured limb from seizing, they didn't do a lot to help the pain of twisting or smacking it against the multiples surfaces in the cramped bathroom.

"Come on Sammy." Dean encouraged, eyeing me as he returned the pill bottle to the kitchen table.

"It's Sam." I corrected sulkily, popping the drug into my mouth and chasing it down with the water.

"Your appointment is in an hour. You want something to eat?" My brother asked, appearing in front of me to take the glass.

I cringed at the thought of food, or more the thought of the reappearance I knew the food would make.

"You've got to eat dude." Dean reminded me.

I sighed, knowing he wouldn't let me skip breakfast.

"Just some toast would be fine."

Dean rolled his eyes, but moved back towards the kitchen to fix it for me anyways.

I took the opportunity of finally being out of his line of sight to try my best to get dressed. This hotel actually had a full kitchen, a television and sofa, as well as a bathroom, two queen-sized beds, and a dresser. The entire room was clean and comfortable, and for the first time in a while Dean and I had actually bothered to unpack.

I grabbed my cane and limped my way over to the dresser holding my clothes, pulling out a clean t-shirt, fresh boxers, and the pair of sweatpants I always wore to physical therapy.

It was summer, and a little too warm out to be wearing sweatpants, but the hospital was always chilly and usually at some point during the appointment my entire leg would be wrapped in ice, so I got cold.

I changed my shirts and then carefully pulled off my sleep pants, struggling into my boxers, panting from frustrated exertion once I finally got them on.

"Hey Sam you—What the hell are you doing?"

I startled at Dean's entrance and then scowled back down at the sweatpants I was trying to tug on over top of my leg brace.

"What's it look like?" I bit out.

"It looks like you are not being more careful like I told you to be all of ten minutes ago." My older brother replied, marching over and setting the toast on my bedside table before coming to lean over me.

"Here let me help." He offered.

"Dean I can do it!" I snapped, regretting the harsh tone of my voice, but not the irritation.

"I'm sure you can." He responded without hesitation as he lightly slapped my hands away and pulled my sweatpants onto my leg, being as gentle as possible when stretching them over my braced ampedage. The older teen stopped once they reached my thigh, looking at me, eyebrow up, silently asking if I could handle it from there.

I nodded with a roll of my eyes, because duh I could pull my own pants on.

Dean snickered and left for the kitchen, returning a minute later with a glass full of orange juice. He waited until I was seated against the headboard and then placed my breakfast on my lap.

"Thanks." I said, soft and honest.

My brother sent me a small smile before grabbing some clothes and heading to the bathroom.

"I'm going to grab a shower. I want all that gone by the time I get out." He informed me waiting for acknowledgement before closing the door.

I looked down at the toast, a small smile crossing my face as I noticed the strawberry jam spread across it. I had commented yesterday that my stomach couldn't handle peanut butter, but it was the only condiment we had. Dean must have picked up jam on his way back from work yesterday.

My brother always took care of me.

I winced as the guilt hit me again, because he really shouldn't have to.

He's only eighteen, he should be out going to bars and hanging out with girls, not working his ass off so he can look after me, his snot nosed little brother.

* * *

Sam was in pain.

I could see it in the lines on his face and in his tense posture.

I could see it in the fake smile he threw my way as he accomplished another set of exercises.

And it was my fault.

Every flinch, wince, and gasp was my fault.

I had let him fall, had allowed some fucking monster to snap his leg.

I thought he was right on my heels, it wasn't until I heard my little brother's piercing cry of pain that I found out he had fallen.

I should have been running behind him, I always brought up the rear.

Why the hell had I been upfront?

I shook my head in disgust with myself, before plastering an enthused smile on my face when Sam looked in my direction.

The doctor had told me how important it was for Sam to have someone to come and encourage him through physio. It was mandatory that my little brother have a guardian at his appointments so that they could take note and aid him with the exercises at home. The doctor was surprised when I was the one who showed up with Sam the next day, and it took a good half an hour to convince him that I was indeed the kid's legal guardian. I had gotten those papers signed on my eighteenth birthday and surprisingly it hadn't taken much of an argument to get my father to sign partial custody of Sammy over to me. Both John and I knew that the possibility of him not returning from a hunt was a strong one, and if it happened, it would be easier for everyone if I already had legal guardianship of my little brother.

I cringed as Sam gasped in pain, his body shaking with exhaustion as he fought to extend his leg against the pressure of the weight.

"You can do it Sammy. Just one more time." I stated confidently.

I watched with pride as the young teen set his jaw in pure Winchester determination, and straightened his injured limb, shoving the weighted mechanism forward, breathing heavily once he accomplished the task.

Sam pushed his hair off his face, his bangs wet with perspiration as he breathed deeply, hands clenching onto the handle bars of the workout machine chair.

"You did great Sam. We'll get you set up on the bed over there and then we'll ice your leg. After that you can head home. Sound good?" The Doc asked, sounding a tad too cheerful.

The middle aged man leaned down to help my little brother up, but before he got a hold on him I stepped in between the two.

"I'll get him to the bed Doc, how about you go grab the ice." I heard Sam snicker behind me as the older man gave me a questioning look before nodding in agreement and leaving the room.

"What's so funny?" I questioned my little brother as I turned around and slid my hands under his armpits to get a grip.

"You totally just ordered him around." Sam explained, dimples appearing as he stared up at me.

"I did not." I denied counting to three and lifting the teen from his seated position.

I frowned at the groan Sammy released when I pulled him up and held him vertical, glancing around the room in search for the cane.

"He put it over there."

I looked in the direction my brother pointed, spotting the object leaning against the last exercise machine that had been used.

"I'll grab it after I get you to the bed." I replied simply, bending down and pulling the teen's arm over my shoulders. The height difference between the two of us didn't make it easy, but Sam managed to hop on one foot as I guided him across the room, turning him carefully and helping him onto the bed. My brother settled himself and I went to grab his cane, bringing it back with me and standing by his side.

"You did good today man." I complimented, messing up the kid's long shaggy hair.

"Yeah right." Sam snorted, swatting my hand off his head.

"I'm serious."

"I could barely handle it, those weights were like fifteen pounds Dean." He grumbled in disappointment.

"This is your first week kiddo, you just got your cast off. Give it some time."

Sam nodded reluctantly.

This kid was always way too damn hard on himself.

The doc returned, several large ice packs in his hands.

"Now Samuel, I noticed that you have been using the cane. I thought we discussed last time that the crutches would be better, especially so soon after your cast was removed." The doctor lectured, his voice level as he placed the brace back on Sam's leg and then surrounded it with the ice packs.

I smirked at the glare Sam sent the man while he wasn't looking.

"The cane is just a lot easier." The teen explained lamely, a slight shiver running through him as his skin absorbed the cold.

"I understand that, but it is meant to be used in a week or two when you have more strength and mobility. If you have to use it now it would be best to only utilize the cane for short periods of time. Do you understand?"

Sam's authority issues must have been going crazy, I thought as I watched him clenching his jaw.

"Don't worry Doc, I'll make sure he doesn't use the cane too much." I declared, stepping in to diffuse the situation before my little brother lost his patience.

The older man looked my way, taking in the serious expression written across my face and nodded in satisfaction.

"Alright Sam, leave the ice on for ten more minutes and then you are free to go. I want you to continue those stretches I showed you while you're at home and I will see you on Monday."

Sam nodded his understanding and sent the doctor a small smile of appreciation.

"Hey Doc." I called out, stopping the man before he could leave.

"The meds you prescribed, they are making Sammy sick." I said.

"Nausea is a side-effect." He stated.

"Yeah, they're making him throw-up, and with his leg all splint like that, well, it hurts him." I explained, attempting to keep the worry from my tone, but judging by the sympathetic look on the man's face, my attempt failed miserably.

"There a different drug I could prescribe, it should help relax the muscles and ease the pain like the other one, but without such intense side effects." The Doc described as he pulled out his prescription pad and began writing.

"Try this." He said, tearing off the slip of paper and handing it to me.

"Thanks." I replied.

The older man nodded and left the room.

Sammy and I waited impatiently for the ten minutes to end, the kid was shivering by the sixth.

"You cold?" I asked, already knowing the truth, as well as the fact that the answer was going to be the complete opposite.

As I had assumed, Sam shook his head indicating the negative, even while another shiver ran through him.

I rolled my eyes and instantly removed my plaid over-shirt, wrapping it around my brother's shoulders pretending not to notice a second later, after his dramatic sigh, that he slipped his arms through the sleeves and pulled the fabric tighter across his chest.

At the tenth minute on the dot I immediately began removing the ice-packs from around Sam's leg.

"Your ready to blow this popsicle stand?" I enquired as I helped him climb off of the bed.

"Oh yeah." He responded through gritted teeth as he delicately set his right leg on the floor.

"You should have brought your crutches." I halfheartedly scolded as I handed my brother his cane.

"They are too big."

"I can adjust them again, though I'm not sure how much shorter they can go, you little midget." I mocked as I slowed my steps in order to keep pace with the young teen trying desperately not to fall behind.

We stopped at the pharmacy on our way out. I handed in the new prescription and waited for them to fill it, keeping an eye on the boy standing off to the side, not failing to notice the way he shifted uncomfortably, trying his best to keep weight off his injured leg.

"That will be one-hundred and seventy-five dollars."

I gaped at the price and turned my attention to the pharmacist.

"What?" I asked, hoping to hell that she had made a mistake.

"One-hundred and seventy-five dollars." The woman recited again.

I pulled out my wallet and fumbled through it.

Fifty-three dollars, that was it, that was every penny I possessed.

"I uhh, I don't have that much cash on me right now. Could I give you what I have and then pay the rest later?" I asked.

"No, sorry. That's not an option."

"But I get paid after my shift today. I could come right here after work and..."

"I can hold the medication for you until then, but I need either health insurance or payment in full before I can give it to you." She responded flatly.

"But my brother needs them for today." I specified, my temper rising.

"Then you will need to pay in full now."

"Lady I don't think you're getting it." I ground out.

"Dean-

The soft call caught my immediate attention, the way it always had.

I looked to my left to see Sam looking up at me, those hazel eyes staring intently into mine.

"It's okay, I can wait until later."

"Sam-

"No, really. It's fine. We still have the other meds."

"Yeah dude, but they make you sick." I reminded the teen.

"I feel fine. I ate this morning and I haven't thrown up or anything." Sam declared in complete confidence.

A part of me knew that my little brother was lying, but it's not like I had a lot of options, so I chose to believe his assurances and let the matter drop.

"Fine, but I'm coming back here right after work today." I promised, sliding my wallet into my back pocket and grabbing the prescription off the counter top.

I sent the pharmacist a hateful glare before turning to leave, walking at about half the speed I wanted to so that Sam could keep up.

I swallowed down my feelings of anger and complete incompetency as I helped Sam into the passenger side of the Impala.

"You sure you don't want to stretch out in the back?" I asked him, the same way I did every time he had gotten into the vehicle since getting his cast off. When Sam's busted leg was wrapped in plaster the kid had had not choice but to ride in the back, but now that it was just in a brace he would insist on the front, even though I could clearly see how awkward and uncomfortable of a position it was.

"I'm sure." My little brother replied, a lightness in his voice. I knew that happier tone was for my benefit, because he could probably tell how pissed I was at myself for not being able to afford the drugs.

Sam shouldn't be trying to make things better for me.

I should be making things better for him.

That was my job.


	2. Chapter 2

We drove back to the hotel in tense silence.

Any attempt I made at conversation received nothing more than a grunt from my older brother.

Not that I could blame him. He was tired, he had to get up early to take me to my appointment, and now he had to head off to work. As if all that wasn't enough, he now had to waste half of his paycheck on my medicine.

How could he not be ticked?

I had also seen the way Dean's face paled when he realized he didn't have enough cash for the new meds and I knew that he wasn't only furious with the situation and the pharmacist, but also with himself. I knew that I would have to find some way to convince him that it wasn't his fault...without saying those exact words, because he would shrug them off and tell me not to start a chick-flick moment.

Angry or not, my brother was nothing but gentle when he helped me leverage myself out of the Impala and patiently followed me into the hotel room.

I collapsed onto the couch, letting my cane fall to the floor and turned on the tv, trying to look occupied so that Dean didn't feel bad for having to leave. Because no matter how ridiculous it was, I knew that he felt guilty for going to work all day and leaving me alone, cooped up in the room.

My older brother threw on his work clothes and then dropped down on the other end of the couch.

"Your meds are on the kitchen table, don't forget to take them at lunch and again at dinner."

I nodded obediently, refraining from rolling my eyes like I really wanted to.

"There's a sandwich in the fridge for your lunch and the soup that you didn't eat from last night is in there as well, just throw it in the microwave and you can have it for dinner." Dean instructed as he pulled on his shoes.

I nodded again, physically biting my tongue so I wouldn't remind my older brother that I was fourteen years-old and entirely capable of making my own sandwich and heating soup.

Dean released a loud yawn as he tugged on his last shoe, and a pang of guilt went through me.

It's my fault he was so tired.

It was my fault he had to work so hard.

It was completely unfair.

"Alright, you sure you're good here." He questioned, and there was not doubt in my mind, that had I said no, Dean would have done whatever necessary to make it okay.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just going to watch some T.V., maybe do some reading."

That got a smirk out of the tired teen.

"You have got to be the only kid on the planet who reads during summer break." He said, shaking his head in amusement.

"Well at least I'm literate." I replied lamely, eager for some cheerful banter.

Dean snorted a laugh as he stood, grabbing his keys and making his way to the door, but before he left he turned back to me.

"Call if you need me." He ordered.

"I will."

"I mean it Sammy."

"I will, and it's Sam."

That got me another smirk.

"Whatever short-stuff." He responded, closing the door behind him.

I lay back on the couch and listened to the Impala rumble it's way out of the parking lot. I smiled, satisfied that I was able to get some sort of entertained response out of my exhausted older brother.

The day was essentially identical to the month of days before it. I watched T.V., re-read some old textbooks, re-read the magazines Dean brought home for my last week, did my assigned stretches, and hobbled aimlessly around the hotel room. I wanted to go outside and get some fresh air, but Dad and Dean had blatantly expressed their displeasure with that idea multiple times since I broke my leg. Both of them were concerned with what people might think when they saw an injured fourteen year old (who looked even younger) wondering around a hotel alone all day. The last thing we needed was Child Protective Services knocking on the door.

The realization that it was only noon had me releasing an exasperated sigh of boredom.

I made my way over to the kitchen table, looking down at the meds I knew I had to take, even though I really didn't want to. I dumped out one of the pills and popped it into my mouth, dry swallowing it, something Dean never let me do, always saying that it wasn't good for my throat or something, but in reality I think it just distressed him that I'd gotten so good at it.

I made my way over to the fridge, staring into the nearly empty appliance. My two meal options on the top shelf, no doubt placed there so they would be easy access. I felt a smile pull at my lips.

Dean.

Always looking after me.

I selected the soup, with hopes that it would go down smoother.

Some shit decision that was.

Less than forty-five minutes after I tried to choke it down I felt it turning in my stomach.

I nearly face-planted three times on my rush to the bathroom, the liquid burning it's way up my esophagus.

I tried to go down carefully when I made it to the toilet, but the aggressive heaving made that difficult. My braced leg slid out from under me and I landed hard on my knees, my cry of pain stunted by the hurling.

I was too busy emptying my stomach to work on fixing the position of my injured leg, but I could feel the brace pulling in protest to its bent position and though I tried my best to keep my weight on my left knee, that was made difficult by my violent gagging.

I hadn't noticed anyone had entered the hotel room until I felt a hand on my back. My hunter vigilance was obviously lacking, but I was in too much pain to care; as it turns out, soup burned even more coming up than it did going down. Between that and the agony in my leg, I wasn't surprised I didn't hear someone come in.

I didn't panic, recognizing the touch on my back as soon as I felt it.

"Ah shit Sammy." The quiet explanation hardly loud enough to be heard over the sound of my heaving.

I didn't object as a strong arm hooked around my chest and lifted up a little, taking my weight off my knees and leaning me over the toilet as a coughed up all that I had left, which at that point was nothing more than stomach acid.

My aching leg was manoeuvred from it's crooked position and extended out to the side. It was still a stretch, and very uncomfortable, but at least it eased a fraction of the agony.

I blindly reached back and grabbed a fistful of my brother's jeans, my body shaking as it was assaulted with another round of dry heaving.

"It's alright buddy. I got you." Dean promised softly as he swiped a hand across my forehead, sliding my sweaty bangs to the side while he proceeded to hold me over top of the porcelain bowl.

Eventually the nausea subsided, my stomach empty of all content and I deflated tiredly against my older brother.

Dean went with it, reaching over me to flush the toilet and then pulling me back to set me up against the wall.

I released my grip on his pants as he moved to manoeuvre my leg into a more comfortable position and then went over to the sink. My brother returned a moment later with a glass of water and a damp facecloth.

"Small sips." He instructed.

I nodded knowingly, taking the glass and sipping just enough to remove the revolting taste from my mouth. He took the glass back and set it behind him on the floor; then Dean took the cloth and rubbed it over my face, wiping the sweat off my skin.

Normally my independent streak would have come alive and I wouldn't have allowed my brother to perform such a basic task for me, but I was completely worn out and in too much pain to give a crap. So I sat compliantly as my brother cleaned me up.

I sighed as the cool cloth was guided around back of my neck, but gave a quizzical look to my brother as he rubbed at my cheeks, wondering in complete embarrassment if I had managed to get barf that far up my face.

Dean must have seen the question in my eyes.

"You were crying." He explained simply, his voice low in a tone that many would misinterpret as anger, but I knew it for what it was, distress. I also knew that if there had been a living reason for my tears, Dean would have ripped it's lungs out.

I wasn't surprised I had been crying, the ache in my leg still a prominent reminder of the agony that had recently been radiating through it; that, plus all the hurling...crying didn't seem very far-fetched.

I had never been, and probably would never be the most stoic member of the Winchester family.

* * *

I stood and tossed the washcloth into the sink and asked Sam if he was ready to get up, but the kid made no response, seemingly lost in his thoughts, or just too tired to have heard me.

I squatted down in front of the young teen, his wondering gaze finding me.

"What?" He croaked, realizing that he had missed something.

"You good to get up? I think the bed would be a lot comfier."

Sam released a tired sigh as he nodded his head and immediately began trying to climb to his feet.

"Whaoh, take it easy buddy, take it easy." I said, grasping my little brother's thin arms and helping him stand before he hurt himself.

Deep lines of pain filled the teens young face as he put a hand on the thigh of his right leg and his breathing became unsteady.

I shook my head, because this just wasn't going to work.

I bent down and wrapped one arm around Sam's back and another behind his knees, being careful with his injured leg as I lifted him into my arms.

"Dean, what the hell?" Sam rasped, his throat raw.

"Just relax Samantha." I quipped, trying not to mock the kid to heavily while adding some lightness to the moment.

Sam huffed, but made no further protest, which was proof of how much he was hurting.

I walked over to the bed furthest from the door and easily set my younger brother onto it. That kid was too small and too thin for his own good, looking to be all of twelve, but his lack of weight didn't hurt in moments like this, I thought distractedly.

"How's your leg?" I questioned, watching Sam's entire body tense as I lightly rolled his sweatpants up so I could take a look.

"It's fine." My little brother dismissed.

"Bullshit." I called.

"It throbs a little." Sam admitted after a moment.

I nodded, inspecting the limb and seeing no evidence of any new damage.

"You're sure? Doesn't feel like anything is re-broken?"

"I'm sure, just soar." The teen assured me.

"What are you doing home?" He inquired, watching as I rolled his pant-leg back down over the brace.

"It's my lunch break. I just wanted to check up on you." I answered simply, with no intention of admitting to the fact that I had done this everyday since I got the job. I would take my lunch break to drive back to the hotel and check on my kid. Usually I would just peak in the window, seeing him sleeping or reading and then head back, because I only had fifteen minutes and the drive took seven. Today I had peaked in the window and my little brother had been no where in sight, my eyes had immediately travelled to the bathroom, noticing the door open and seeing his body curled over the toilet. I shook my head, attempting to physically rid of the image of the young teen white-knuckling the porcelain as he heaved and cried.

"I should have bought those fucking meds." I muttered, freshly pissed with myself.

"You couldn't Dean." Sam stated, doing what he always did, ensuring that I was not to blame

I swear if this kid had it his way, I wouldn't be at fault for anything ever.

"I'll pick them up today." I vowed, moving back to the bathroom to grab the cane that had been discarded on the floor and leaning it up against the wall by the bed.

"You should be using your crutches." I admonished.

"Yeah sure, cause they would have gotten me to the bathroom on time." Sam snorted.

I didn't bother to argue with that.

"You need anything?" I asked.

"No, don't you have to get back to work?"

"You trying to get rid of me?" I questioned, eyebrow raised, faking amusement so that I could avoid the fact I really didn't want to leave Sam alone for the rest of the day.

A small dimply smile spread across my little brother's face and I was reminded once again how much I fucking loved this kid.

"I'll be alright Dean." The teen informed me, as though he could read my mind while staring up at me with those stupid puppy dog eyes.

The eyes that never failed to make my heart clench.

"I'll be back by six."

Sam quirked an eyebrow in response.

"No overtime?" He questioned.

"Not today, I'm getting off in time to go pick up your meds and then I will come straight back here."

Sam started shaking his head half way through my answer.

"I don't need-

"Yes Sam, you do." I declared, leaving no room for the stubborn little shit to argue.

My brother sent me a classic teenage eye roll, making me smirk.

"Call me-

"If I need anything, I know."

Sam finished petulantly.

I laughed in amusement as I left the room, locking the door behind me and heading towards to the Impala, grimacing when I saw the time, and hoping that I wouldn't get fired.

I couldn't get fired.

I had a little brother to look after.

* * *

I waited until I heard the Impala drive off before curling up in bed and closing my eyes.

The pain and hurling left me feeling drained and tired, but I didn't want Dean to know, because if he was ever going to leave, he had to be positive that I was perfectly okay.

I was glad that Dean wasn't working over time, he needed rest more than I did, but I hated that all the money he was earning would be going towards my medication and hospital bills.

I promised myself at that moment that the first chance I got, I would make some cash and buy Dean something awesome, maybe tickets to a Metallica concert.

I fell to asleep with a smile on my face, satisfied with my future plan.

I did not wake in the same peaceful manner.

My leg was in agony, every nerve on fire.

I gasped awake, jerked into consciousness by the pain tearing through me.

Sitting up I struggled to control my breathing as I held onto the injured limb, feeling it shutter under my touch as I hastily tugged up my pant leg.

The limb looked fine, the brace still in place, but I could see all the muscles hidden beneath my skin twitching violently.

I realized what was happening.

The doc had warned me about what would happen if I didn't do my stretches or take the medication, my leg would seize, due to the stress of physical therapy and weakness from the injury.

I had only done my stretches once today...and to say that I half-assed them would be generous. I had taken my pill as well, but I doubt that it was effective after being brought back up.

I looked across the room where the bottle was sitting on the kitchen table and groaned, because it might as well have been on the other side of the country.

Through a series of shifts and slides, accompanied by multiple gasps and groans, I made it off the bed. Clenching my jaw as I tugged my injured leg along with me. It felt as though every single muscle was screaming, like I had run a marathon...on a broken leg.

I grabbed hold of my cane, clenching it so hard I thought my fingers might break.

I managed about four steps away from the bed, barely one third of the distance I needed to travel, before I went down. My body was shaking so hard that when I went to place my weight on the cane, my elbow gave way and I fell, crying out as I connected hard with the ground. This was the first time I ever wished there was a sketchily stained carpet to ease my landing, instead of the hardwood that had taken its place.

I attempted to stand a couple times, but it hurt so much that I gave up and lied down on the floor, curling around my injured leg and silently begging for Dean to return.

As though my older brother heard my muted call (which wouldn't be shocking, he seemed to have a sixth sense when it came me), he entered the room.

"Hey I picked up your- Sammy!"

I lifted my head off the hard floor to look up at my brother, watching as he hurried toward me and dropped down onto his knees.

"Your leg?" He asked steadily, eyes scanning over me.

I nodded, clearly the scene wasn't all that difficult to piece together.

Receiving my confirmation Dean carefully rolled me onto my back and slid my pant-leg up.

I watched his face twist in confusion as he stared at the limb and lightly touched my skin.

"It's seizing...the muscles are seizing." I bit out in explanation.

Realization dawned on my older brother's face as he to recalled the doctor's warning.

"Shit." He cursed, climbing to his feet and grabbing the glass of water he had left on my side-table.

"Here, take this." Dean ordered quietly, slipping my newly prescribed pills from his pocket and dropping one into his hand. A large palm cradled the back of my head and lifted it further off the floor so I could swallow the medication.

"It should start to work soon." My brother declared confidently as he swiped my long bangs off my face.

"I'm going to carry you back to the bed." He announced, already lifting me off the hardwood before I could bother to protest.

"You're lucky your ass is light." Dean commented as he walked back to my bed.

"No, you're lucky my ass is light." I quipped, my voice shaky as I failed to hide a wince when I was set back down on the mattress.

I hadn't realized that I had been holding tightly to the amulet until Dean tugged on it lightly as he tried to straighten out.

"Sorry." I muttered.

My brother ruffled my hair in reply, his face lined in concern when he stared at my hands, as I held fistfuls of the blanket beneath me.

"What can I do Sammy?" Dean asked me, his offer genuine as he leaned in closer.

I breathed deeply, jaw clenched as I struggled to get a hold on the agony in my leg.

I shrugged in response, partly because I didn't know what else my brother could possibly do for me, and partly due to my worry that if I attempted speech I would end up releasing something pathetic, like a whimper.

Not that it mattered, because a second later, an intense cramp took hold of the muscle in my shin and a horribly sounding guttural gasp jumped from my throat.

That sent Dean into action. He climbed up on the bed, kneeling by my legs and rolled my sweatpants up out of the way, and went to place his hand on my leg

"Dean don't!" I begged, my voice cracking, terrified at the idea of more pain.

"Just trust me kiddo."

I nodded after a moment, giving my consent, because it was Dean, of course I trusted him.

He began using his hands to massage my leg, kneading the muscles that he could reach, the ones not covered by the brace.

I tensed up, ready for the pain, surprised at how short lived it was. I sighed loudly after a moment, feeling the muscles in my leg begin to relax as my brother rubbed at them.

"I'm sorry." I said, a few minutes later, voice cracking as I hissed in pain when Dean began or rub his knuckles into my spasmodic thigh muscle.

"For what?" He asked me distractedly, as he worked to ease the tense limb.

"Oh gee, I don't know. Being a wuss, face-planting twice in one day, being the reason you have to spend all your time working...sorry for being a klutz and cause all this crap to begin with."

The hands working my muscles stilled as Dean looked up at me, eyes wide and an almost glowing green. He looked both parts shocked and pissed.

"What the hell Sam?!" He barked, I squinted at him, opening and closing my mouth like a fish out of water, unsure of what it was he wanted me to say.

"You seriously think this is your fault?" The question was loud and harsh, leaving me in even more confusion.

Dean waited for me to respond this time.

"Well...I mean...Yes." I stuttered out, at a loss at how to ease my older brother's sudden anger.

"You're fucking kidding me right?!" Another harsh-sounding question to which I elected not to respond.

Dean stared into my eyes and I looked into his, waiting for some sort of clue to what I had done to set him off.

My older brother must have recognized my confusion, because the he took a deep breath and ran his hand over his face and through his hair, something he often did when he was searching for patience or at a loss for words.

"Look man, none of this is your fault. Not the medical bills or what happened on the hunt."

"But it is! I fell behind and I tripped, I-

"I left you behind and you fell." Dean corrected darkly, and I quickly realized that the fury in his expression was not aimed at me.

"You didn't leave me. You were right there."

"I was in front of you, I should have been behind."

"I should have kept up." I confessed miserably.

"Don't be an idiot Sam. You were running as fast as you could. Your legs are half the size of mine, you can't be expected to keep up, I should have slowed down."

I wanted to argue. To tell Dean that he shouldn't have to slow down just to run behind me and risk being eaten, but I knew that wouldn't work, not on my over-protective, self-sacrificing older brother. So instead I utilized my only other strategy to ease his guilt, humour.

"My legs aren't that small." I sulked, crossing my arms petulantly for added effect.

Dean smirked.

"Man, you're practically a midget."

I scowled in reply, secretly pleased to see a few of the lines on my brother's face fade, hopefully along with some of his internal anger.

"How's your leg?" He asked, looking down at the limb.

I realized that I had momentarily forgotten about it.

"Much better." I answered honestly, my muscles no longer seized, only a dull ache left behind.

"Good." Dean nodded, yawning shortly after, which brought my attention to his tired posture and shadowed eyes.

"You should get some rest." I pointed out softly.

My brother sent me a confused squint in response.

"It's only seven man. We haven't even had dinner yet."

"Well I'm not all that hungry-

"Those meds making you queezy, cause the doc said-

"It's not that. I feel fine, I swear. I'm just not hungry right now. So why don't you grab some shut-eye and we can eat later." I suggested, hoping Dean would agree, because he needed the rest.

"It's not even dark out."

"But you're tired." I pointed calmly, careful not to sound accusatory.

Dean shrugged, glancing around the room for a moment.

"Maybe I'll just lay down for an hour."

I nodded my approval.

"When I wake up I'll go grab us some grub." The older teen announced as he climbed off my bed and dropped down onto his.

"Sounds good."

"If you need anything just ask alright? I'm tired of carrying your princess ass all over the place."

I rolled my eyes, biting my tongue to keep from informing Dean that I had never once asked to be carried like a baby.

"And Sammy." He called, lifting his head from his face down position on the mattress., waiting for my gaze to meet his before he continued.

"This isn't your fault. None of it." He stated adamantly, a stern look on his face, as though he was daring me to argue, which I was tempted to do. But my brother was tired and there was no point in us bickering about something that would never change.

Dean would always blame himself when something bad happened to me.

He would always feel guilty for not protecting me, even when it's not possible.

And that was just our reality.

So I nodded my understanding.

A satisfied look settled on Dean's face and he let his head fall back onto the mattress, eyes closing as soon as it landed.

I shook my head in frustration.

One day I would find a way to convince my older brother that everything that happened to me was not his fault, but that day wouldn't be today.

I picked up a magazine off my night stand, the National Geographic one Dean had brought me, and began flipping through the already read pages.

I smiled to myself when I thought of my plans to make it up to my brother.

Metallica tickets.

It wasn't nearly enough, but it would be a good start.

A good start at showing my brother that I knew how much he did for me.

I glanced over at Dean and swallowed down the lump that appeared in my throat as I watched the tired man stretch out on the bed.

The young adult with his inappropriate humour and annoying qualities.

His loud taste in music and his stupid habit of always taking the blame.

The person in this world I loved the most.

My protector.

My big brother.

Dean.

* * *

I felt sleep pulling at me as I lied stretched out over the bed. My body relaxed into the shockingly comfortable mattress and I mentally thanked Dad for springing for a nicer hotel and paying two months in advance. At least now I know that Sammy is comfortable and in no danger of contracting some sort of disease when I leave him cooped up in the room every day all day. That gives me one less thing to worry about.

Guilt shot through me as I recalled what my littler brother had said, how he had thought that this was all his fault. How he had blamed himself for not only getting hurt, but fore requiring expensive treatment.

What the hell was wrong with that kid?

How could he possibly take blame for not being able to out-run a possessed coyote?

How could he not blame me for leaving him behind.

Oh right, because he's Sam.

Samuel Winchester and his stupid guilt complex.

I wasn't his fault that he didn't have super-human speed, or that his leg got snapped into pieces.

I wasn't not his fault that he needed a cast and physical therapy and it sure as hell wasn't his fault that we don't always have enough money for things like medicine.

He was only fourteen years old.

And fourteen year old's shouldn't be worried about this kind of shit.

I frowned in frustration, wishing, not for the first time, that Sam could just be a normal kid.

I opened one eye, peeking over at my little brother and smirking as the dork flipped through the magazine he must have read one hundred times by now.

God I loved this kid.

I loved him so fucking much it hurt.

I would make things better for him, whatever it took.

For dinner tonight I would get some of that Chinese food he likes, or maybe a Hawaiian pizza.

Then on Sunday, my day off, I would find something fun for us to do. We could go see a movie or go to a museum and Sammy could get his geek on.

I smiled, content with my plan of action, releasing a satisfied sigh as I finally began to give in to my body's desire for sleep.

"Go to sleep already Dean." I heard Sam order, apparently just noticing that I was still awake.

"Don't boss me around, Bitch." I slurred tiredly.

"Jerk."

I grinned at the teen's response and fell to sleep thinking about how fucking lucky I was to have this kid for a little brother.

The kid with the stupid puppy-dog eyes and long girly hair.

The self-sacrificing kid with the massive guilt complex and complicated thinking.

The kid who I would do anything for.

My kid.

Sammy.


	3. Chapter 3

"You sure you don't mind doing this darling? It's not too much of a bother?"

I smiled at the older woman seated next to me.

"It's really not a problem." I stated sincerely.

I had entered the hotel lobby earlier this morning in search of some fresh towels and had seen the lady at the front desk staring frustratingly at the computer.

After a short conversation I discovered that she had next to no knowledge of how to operate a computer and was struggling to figure out how to respond to emails and operate the hotel's website.

I offered to help, ensuring her that I knew how to use computers and that I even owned one...well it was a laptop and my dad had it right now...but that was besides the point.

"Henry, that's my husband, he's the real owner of this place and he usually deals with all of this nonsense, but he's on a fishing trip with his war buddies right now. And the staff have so much work to do already, it hardly feels right to go bothering them. But I'm sure I could figure it out if you don't have the time young man." She explained earnestly.

"It's really not a problem Ma'am." I assured her, a polite smile on my face as my eyes remained on the computer screen.

"Oh don't bother with that ma'am stuff. My name is Donna."

"Okay Donna." I replied in amusement, having already introduced myself.

"And your leg is okay? Should I grab you a chair to rest it on?"

"It's just fine." I lied.

Physical therapy had been hell this morning and my leg was aching, but the new medication Dean brought home a couple days ago were working okay.

I hated those pills, they dulled the pain and didn't make me nauseous, but they cost my brother his entire pay cheque.

It wasn't fair.

"And I'll pay you of course."

The announcement caught my attention and I glanced to my right.

"Oh you don't ha-

"Of course I do. I will pay you ten dollars an hour and I won't hear a word of argument." The older woman declared stubbornly.

I smiled appreciatively and made no move to oppose.

It wasn't really fair that she was paying me to do something so simple. I was good with computers and what I was doing wasn't all that difficult, but I also wanted desperately to be able to help Dean with some of the medical bills and buy him Metallica concert tickets, which did not come cheap.

I spent the next few hours organizing and typing out replies to emails that were dictated to me by Donna.

"Oh darling it's nearly one, don't you want to get back to your room to have lunch with your brother?"

I looked over in confusion.

"He is your brother right? The older boy that drives that nice car?" She questioned.

"Yeah that's him, but he's at work. He won't be home until this evening."

Later if he works overtime...which he probably would, thanks to me.

"Well yes but he always comess back to see you right about now." The older woman stated, as though it were an obvious fact.

"Oh that was just on Friday." I said, recalling a couple days ago when my brother had returned home to find me sprawled out on the bathroom floor puking my guts out.

"No, he does it every weekday. I don't think he stays long, because by the time I look outside again he's already gone. He's been doing it for a few weeks now."

I thought for a moment before my heart warmed and my lips were pulled up into a wide smile.

He was checking on me.

My big brother came back every day to check in on me.

He probably uses his entire lunch break to drive back to the hotel just to look into the room and make sure I was okay.

"You're right. I forgot. Do you mind if I go back to my room for lunch? I can come back after and we can continue with this."

"Only if you're feeling up to it dear."

"I'll be back soon." I promised, trying my best to hold back a wince as I got to my feet with my cane in my hand. I had given up on the damn crutches altogether. I had tried to use them Saturday after my brother commandeered my cane, but after I nearly met the floor for the fifth time in a row, Dean gave me back my cane and, with a snicker, he told me not to bother with the crutches any longer.

The older woman nodded in reply and handed me the clean towels I had requested as I hobbled out of the lobby.

My leg was on fire.

I should have taken my second dose of meds a while ago, but I was trying to stick with only taking two pills a day. In the morning and in the evening. That way they wouldn't need to be refilled so soon. Besides the afternoon dose was the only time Dean wasn't around to ensure that I took it...or so I had thought. It worked okay yesterday just taking two pills, but I hadn't had physio on Sunday so my injured limb hadn't been in half this much pain.

I shoved the thoughts away, knowing that thinking about my leg's discomfort would only add to it.

Once I stepped outside I immediately spotted the Impala and attempted to move faster. I had hoped to have been in the room before Dean got back, I didn't want him knowing about my job, I wanted the money I made to be a surprise as well as the concert tickets.

I was nearly at our room when my brother came rushing out of it, I barely had time to register the look of panic on his face before he knocked right into me.

Normally a little bump wouldn't send me headed straight for the ground, but my balance was shaky as of late.

I gasped in surprise and agony when my braced leg came out from under me and I headed face first toward the concrete.

But before impact I felt as strong arm snake around my middle and swiftly pull me upright. Dean held me against himself, waiting for me to find my balance.

It took a moment, but with the cane still firmly in my grip I managed to settle my weight back on my legs, only when I was feeling stable did my brother slowly begin to release his hold, maintaining a steadying grip on my elbow as he came around to stand in front of me.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I was so used to Dean's concern manifesting itself as anger, that the outburst did not surprise me in the least. As I came up with an answer, I thought distractedly whether or not there had ever been a point in time where I had confused the two emotions.

"I uh, went to get towels." I explained, glancing down and surprised to see the objects still folded and tucked under my right arm.

Dean followed my gaze and scowled at the towels, as though they had personally offended him.

"I could have done that." He declared, his tone a little more calm, but still aggravated.

"Yeah well I had some extra time so I thought I'd save you the trouble." I quipped with a smile, hoping to put the older teen at ease.

It worked.

His face softened and the lines of concern nearly disappeared.

"Next time you go limping around how about you try not to run into to people."

I smirked at the request, because we both knew who ran into who.

"Well I wasn't aware you would be back so soon, or else I would have made sure to announce my presence before you almost ran me down."

Dean quirked a smile at that.

"I just came back to grab some lunch." He lied.

I nodded, accepting the fib. It wasn't like my brother to admit to his mother-henning tendencies, and seeing how I was the beneficiary of them it was hardly my place to force him to.

"Getting tired of stuffing yourself with popcorn?" I questioned light-heartedly, knowing that the theatre offered free food to their employees and figuring my brother could never pass up that sort of opportunity.

"Hey, it's not just popcorn. That place is stalked full of candy."

I knew that as well, because he almost never failed to bring me home some after each shift.

"That's a very healthy diet Dean." I remarked, following the older teen back into the hotel room, glad he was leading so that he wouldn't notice how severe my limp was getting. The last thing I needed was my brother finding out I had been skipping doses of my medication.

"You want me to make you something?" He offered, opening the fridge, frowning as he gave it's meagre contents a once-over.

"Don't you have to get back to work?" I inquired casually as I dropped down onto the couch.

"I've got time."

I inwardly smiled at the statement, because I knew that it wasn't true, but that my brother would make time if I needed him to.

"I'm good. Why don't you just take the leftover pizza? I think there's still a couple pieces left from last night." I suggested. Secretly I had had my eye on those Hawaiian slices and planned to eat them for lunch, but that was the only food Dean could eat quickly on his return to work.

"Well then what are you going to eat?" He asked.

That's my one track-minded big brother for you.

"I'll just make some soup or something." I stated, knowing that we almost always had a few cans laying around.

"You sure?" He said, sending me a questioning look from around the fridge.

"Yup, believe it or not I am capable of making my own lunch."

"Congratulations." Dean responded dryly, grabbing the pizza and glancing around the room.

His gaze wondered back to land on me, the way it always did.

"You good?" He asked, just like he did every morning after physical therapy before he went off to work.

"Yup." I declared confidently.

"Alright, no more wandering around the hotel alright?"

I rolled my eyes, I was fourteen, not five.

"Don't be a bitch about it."

I swallowed my retort, because my brother was just worried and tired and he needed to know I would be safe while he was out.

"I'll be fine." I stated, hoping he wouldn't make me promise to stay in the room.

I didn't want to lie to Dean, but I would if it meant I could help him.

Luckily my brother didn't force the issue, giving me a simple not before heading toward the door, pizza in hand.

"I should be back around dinner. I'll bring some food."

I nodded in understanding and watched as my brother left the room, waiting inside a few minutes after I heard the Impala drive off.

I didn't bother with lunch. My new meds didn't make me vomit, but they still weren't great for my appetite. That and I had never been a huge fan of soup, I think it was because back when we were younger, there were days where it was the only thing Dean and I could afford to it. The majority of my childhood consisted of my brother's inventive versions of mac&cheese and soup.

The next several days were surprisingly routine. Physical therapy in the morning, then Dean would head off to work, shortly after which I would make my way to the hotel lobby.

I would always be back in the room by one in the afternoon, lazily watching tv and pretending not to notice when a tall shadow would block the light shining through the window for a just a second before disappearing. I'd been finished at the hotel by dinner and some of the time I would head back to the room and eat dinner alone and other times my brother would arrive back from work in time to join me.

I was still only taking two pills a day, which meant an afternoon of discomfort, but it was worth it if I could stretch the medication just a tad further. I found walking a lot more painful in the hours after my morning dose had faded and prior to my evening pill, but I spent most of that time sitting on my ass at a computer anyway so it didn't matter that much.

It wasn't really the ideal way to spend the summer, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying the simplicity of it all. I hated that Dean was spending his days at work and unable to have the fun that every eighteen year old should be able to have during the summer. But I would make it up to him.

I grinned at the thought as I replied to the last email.

"Thanks again for doing this dear. It would take me days to respond to all these messages."

I smiled politely. Donna wasn't kidding, I had watched her struggling to type the first day and it had been almost physically painful to witness.

"Now I've got to go check up on a few things and you best head back to your room; I may be just an old woman, but I can tell that your leg is hurting you a great deal today and I think it best to get some rest."

I nodded, reluctantly agreeing. It was only four in the afternoon, an hour before I would normally head back to the room. Bu my leg was killing me and sitting in this hard chair wasn't doing it any favours. Besides Donna had paid me this morning for the week, I could still feel the envelope full of bills in my pocket; and I now had enough money for a Metallica concert ticket, as well as enough to help out with some of my medical bills.

"Thank you again darling for helping out. Henry should be back by tomorrow, so I will put him on computer duty once he gets home. But don't you be a stranger, be sure to come around if you or your brother need anything." She insisted.

I grinned shyly, and wondered if this is what it was like to have a grandmother.

"I will thanks. And thanks again for paying me, you really didn't have to-

"I most certainly did my dear. You were a lifesaver this week."

"It was no problem really. I'm just going to double check the the last few bookings have gone through. And then I'll head out."

The older woman thanked me again before patting me on the shoulder and making her way from the room.

I had just finished making sure that the online room reservations were displayed accurately on the hotel's schedule, when I heard my name being called.

"Sam."

I recognized the voice as easily as the anger within it.

I looked up to see my brother marching through the lobby right up to the desk I was behind, his face a mirage of frustration and barely constrained fury as he glared down at me. I knew underneath it was concern. There was no doubt my brother had found our room empty and gone searching for me in panic.

I swiped away my 'dear-in-the-headlights' expression and traded it with one of sheer innocence.

"Hi Dean." I greeted pleasantly.

He wasn't buying it.

"You want to tell me what the hell you're doing?" He asked, his tone low but extremely pissed-off.

"The manager needed help with some computer stuff." I responded simply.

"You're telling me that the _manager_ of the hotel doesn't know how to use his own computer?" Dean questioned in disbelief.

"Well technically it's his wife. And no, trust me, she has no idea. I just offered to help. I'm done now. It's not big deal." I stated casually, wanting to diffuse my agitated older brother before he popped the vein that was currently sticking out of his forehead.

"How did you know she needed help?"

Damn, why couldn't my older brother just leave it alone. I had no intention of telling him just how many days I had spent behind this desk, not just to keep from ruining the surprise, but also to keep from raising my brother's blood-pressure any higher than it already was.

"She asked." I responded simply. I was shifting on the chair, trying to figure out how I was going to stand without making it obvious how much pain I was in. Dean really didn't need another reason to be pissed at me.

"She came to the room and asked if you'd help her with your computer?"

"No, I was in the lobby." I admitted.

Dean nodded, because he had known as much,

"And why were you in the lobby?" He asked, knowing that he wasn't going to like my answer.

"I was just walking around." I replied with a shrug.

Thankfully my brother bought the lie, unfortunately it only added to his level of agitation.

"What did Dad and I tell you about walking around?"

"Sorry, I got bored. You can't expect me to spend all day, every day in that room." I regretted my words at the flicker of guilt that crossed my brother's face. Because of course the moron blamed himself and I knew full well that he felt bad I was stuck being cooped up all day.

"Just until you get better Sam." He said, his voice softer, some of the anger drained from his face where now a twinge of sympathy could be found.

"I know Dean, but you've been going to physio with me, you've heard with that doctor has said. I won't be getting rid of the cane for a few more weeks, and it'll be even longer before I am able to get around as well as I could before." I gently reminded the older teen, not trying to rack up the guilt, but rather to make him understand why I had to get out of that damn room.

"Yeah man I get that, but it's just too much of a risk to have you walking around the place injured. How can we be sure that this woman doesn't call child services or something." He said, fear flashing momentarily through his eyes, before it was tucked away someplace I couldn't see it.

"Dean she's just an older lady who needed my help with the computer. She's not going to call anybody." I sighed, knowing I would never be able to force my older brother to start trusting the human race. He had been wary of people my entire life, and I could hardly fault him for it because his distrust was often the thing that kept me safe.

Dean didn't look like he believed me, but he seemed to let the matter slide.

Now came the hard part, telling my worried over-protective older brother that I needed his help standing up. My leg was stiff and radiating pain. There was no way it would be able to hold my weight and the cane I was holding wouldn't be stable enough to leverage me from the chair on it's own.

Dean was going to be pissed.

* * *

I got that Sam was sick of being couped up.

Really I did.

I had always hated being confined to a motel room, ever since I was a kid.

But my little brother needed to understand the risks he was taking by wondering around. Not only could he further injure himself , but he could attract attention, the worried, well-meanings, CPS-calling kind of attention. And the last thing we needed was them coming around, with Dad off on a hunt, me at work all day, and Sam alone and injured...it wouldn't end well.

"You done here?" I asked, choosing to drop the matter. I could hardly chastise the kid for helping some old woman, and it's not like he wondered far. Hell he was only in the lobby, that was less than twenty feet from our room.

I looked down and watched as my little brother shifted about, his gaze calculating as he bit down on his lower lip.

"Yeah..umm...but I'm going to need some help."

And damn if that didn't get me moving. Sam had needed a lot of help lately, a broken leg tended to make even the simplest things tremendously difficult. No, it was not him requiring help that caught me by surprise, it was my stubborn kid brother openly admitting to that fact that had me reacting so quickly.

"What do you need?" I questioned, immediately making my way around the desk and coming to stand in front of the young teen.

"I think I'm going to need some help standing up." Sam confessed sheepishly.

I made a conscious effort not to look alarmed. But I was. Because the kid had been going to physical therapy for awhile now and I thought he had been doing pretty good...and then all of the sudden he can't get out of a damn chair?

That's not okay.

"No problem." I stated casually as I grasped my little brother's forearms and carefully hauled him into a standing position.

I heard him gasp as he placed half his weight on his cane and the rest on me, his fingers clenching my arm in a death grip.

I frowned at the evident pain the kid was experiencing as he struggled to take his own weight.

"What's going on Sam?" I questioned, because just getting up from a chair shouldn't have him panting in exertion.

"Nothing, I'm fine." He declared through clenched teeth, attempting to pull away and straighten his posture as proof, an attempt which failed miserably when his knees refused to lock and his arm flailed out to grab back on to me a short second later.

I gripped Sam's elbow, and slid my other arm around him to take more of his weight.

"No you're not fine. You can barely stand. What the hell is going on? Your leg wasn't this bad this morning." I stated, because I knew that much.

Sam avoided my eyes as he continued to chew on his lip, both signs that he knew exactly what was happening and just didn't want to tell me.

"Sam." I admonished as we began to shuffle toward the door.

My brother leaned heavily on his cane, his hold on my arm so strong that it was probably cutting of circulation as we trekked back towards the room.

"It's fine, I just haven't taken my afternoon meds yet." He announced.

I stalled at the confession, because what the hell?

"You should have taken them hours ago." I declared, sounding much more accusatory then I had intended, but not bothering to take it back, because I was pissed.

My little brother ducked his head, refusing to meet my eyes as he offered a quiet explanation.

"I know, I just got busy and I forgot."

"You forgot? Really? You're in so much pain you can't even stand, but somehow you forgot to take you medication?" I questioned in complete disbelief.

Sam studied his feet for another moment or two before looking up at me, his tired gaze meeting mine.

"Okay so I didn't forget, but is there any chance you can wait until we are back in the room to yell at me?" He asked, more of his weight resting on me as his bad leg nearly gave out.

"Yeah buddy, we can do that." I said, my tone ten times softer as I reaffirmed my hold on the young teen and helped him walk the remainder of the distance.

Once we made it inside Sam angled himself toward the couch, but I pointed him in the direction of the beds instead.

My brother released a frustrated huff, but allowed me to lead him to his bed. He sat slowly, inhaling sharply as I cautiously lifted his legs up onto the mattress.

"Where are they?"

"Coffee table." He replied shakily.

I moved swiftly grabbing the meds and stalling once the bottle was in my hand.

It was too full.

When I purchased these stupidly expensive drugs I had calculated how long it would be until I'd need to pay for a refill. They were supposed to be needing a refill at the end of next week. The container should be half empty at least.

It wasn't.

I shook my head, pushing the thoughts to the side for a moment as I moved back toward my little brother.

"Here." I stated, shaking a pill out into my hand and dropping into Sam's palm as I reached for the water sitting on the bed-side table.

I gave the medication time to kick in.

I spent fifteen minutes wandering uselessly around the room, tidying up, and staring absently into the bare refrigerator thinking how glad I was that it was finally pay-day and I had enough money to re-stock.

Sam sat resting against the headboard, his eyes fixed on the television, but I could tell his mind was distracted.

The kid was probably trying to work up some lame excuse as to why he hadn't taken his pill. He had yet to find out that I knew this wasn't the first time he had neglected to take them.

"Your leg feeling better?" I questioned, coming to sit on the edge of my bed facing Sam.

He nodded, his hazel eyes glancing timidly in my direction.

"Good. Now would you like to explain why the hell you haven't been taking your meds?" I asked, taking the remote off his lap and flicking the television off, so that all the kids' attention would be on me.

My little brother opened his mouth, but I cut in before he could feed me the lie I knew was coming.

"And don't tell me this is the first time. That bottle is a lot more full then it should be." I declared, nodding toward the offending object sitting on the side-table.

Sam's expression went from defensive to guilty in an instant.

"Sam." I pressured, my patience diminishing.

"I take a pill every morning and every night." He assured me.

"Yeah dude I know that, because I'm here to watch you do it. What I don't know is how many times you've skipped out on the afternoon dose."

My kid brother's cheeks coloured with shame as he stared down at his fidgeting hands.

"How many days Sam?" I questioned again, utilizing my most parental tone.

"Five."

I balked at that.

"All week? You've been skipping meds all week?"

The teen on the bed nodded in confirmation.

"So Monday when You nearly took a nose dive on the sidewalk? You skipped them that day to?"

He nodded again.

"What the hell Sam?" I snapped, standing quickly and pacing around, not having anything else to do with my mounting frustration.

"Dean it's not a big d-

"Don't give me that shit! Not taking your medication is a big freakin deal."

"I know bu-

"And don't act like it didn't affect you. You couldn't even stand Sam! You could hardly walk you were in so much pain."

"That wasn't all pain, my leg was stiff-

"Your leg was stiff because you didn't do the exercises that you were supposed to do, the stretches you would have been able to do had you not been in so much pain."

I watched as my little brother hung his head, finally admitting defeat, which gave me no satisfaction whatsoever.

"Why'd you do it Sam?" I asked after a moment, moving to stand before him.

"I just...I know that the medication was really expensive...and I was trying to make it last." He muttered.

"You have got to stop worrying about money. I told you it wasn't a problem." I stated, some of my anger fading away as I sat down on the bed next to my little brother's knobby knees.

Two tired puppy dog eyes peaked out from underneath shaggy hair to look at me.

"You say that Dean. But you're tired. And I can see it. You've been working non-stop and it's not fair. Your worn out. So I thought if I could make the pills last longer you wouldn't have to pay for a refill and maybe you could take a day or two off work, or at least work less over time. Or...or something." Sam finished softly.

"I'm fine."

"No you're not. You're tired and you aren't having any fun...and it's all my fault."

"Hey! I thought we already went over this. What happened to your leg was not your fault!" I declared loudly, because I thought I had already gotten this particular point across.

"I know." Sam admitted with a sigh. "But it's not yours either, and I just wanted to help you out."

All my aggravation dissipated instantly.

This kid.

This stupid kid.

Here I was reprimanding him for being a moron, only to find out that the little bitch was doing it all for me.

God I loved this kid.

"You're an idiot."

Sam's expression morphed into surprise and then he glared at me.

"I get that it wasn't a good idea Dean, but I thought you of all people would understand."

"Understand what? You willingly spending the day in pain just so we can save a few bucks?" I asked, trying and failing to keep the irritation from my tone.

"A few bucks? Dean the meds were one-hundred and seventy-five dollars!" Sam replied.

I cursed my little brother's memory as I sat back down next to his legs.

"I know man, but we can handle the cost. Besides, it's not worth your leg getting even more screwed up just to make the pills last a few extra days." I explained gently.

My little brother hung his head miserably.

"Hey now, c'mon man." I said, sliding my fingers under his chin and nudging his head back up.

"I appreciate what you were trying to do, really buddy I do. But how about you just let me worry about money and you focus on getting better."

Sam nodded compliantly, which was a rare occurrence for the stubborn kid.

I gave his shoulder a squeeze before getting to my feet.

"How come you got off early today?" He asked.

"No reason really, my boss said I had worked a lot this week and let me off a couple hours ahead of schedule." I replied honestly with a shrug.

Sam nodded, his expression clearly displaying his satisfaction with the situation.

"Alright, well if we want to eat tonight I'm going to have to go make a grocery run." I said making a mental list of everything I needed to buy.

"Can I come?"

The question was soft and unsure, very unlike most of the inquiries posed by that voice, which were often much more confident.

"I don't know Sam, you could barely stand just thirty minutes ago.

"I'm better now! Please Dean."

Well shit.

There was no chance I'd ever be able to say no to that. And the little bitch knew it.

"Yeah alright, but only if your sure you can walk for that long. I don't want to end up carrying your ass all through the store." I joked casually as I handed my little brother his cane and helped leverage him off the bed.

Sam winced as he got his got to his feet, but made no other signs of pain.

"I'm good." He stated, shrugging me off as he began to move toward the door.

The kid was walking twice as fast as he normally would with or without an injured leg, probably in an attempt to prove to me just how perfectly fine he was.

I snorted, shaking my head at my ridiculously stubborn little brother as I followed him out to the Impala.

He was dropping into the front seat before I had the chance to help him; it was done rather gracelessly, but he managed nonetheless.

Stubborn little brothers.

The trip to the grocery store was blessedly uneventful. I maintained a slow pace so that Sam wouldn't have to pretend that it wasn't a struggle to keep up. I let the little dork pick out all the gross-health food that he was into. And it didn't escape my attention that Sam encouraged me to pick out any of the junk food I set me eye on.

My little brother only almost fell once when his cane slipped on the wet floor, but I snagged his shirt and he steadied himself quickly.

By the time we made it to the check out, we had a cart full of food, and I had a little brother that was still in one piece, more or less.

The cashier scanned the items, and my hand immediately moved to my back pocket to pull out my wallet.

The wallet that wasn't there.

I cursed, instantly recalling that I had dropped it on the kitchen table upon returning to an empty hotel room. Apparently amidst the panic of looking for my little brother and then finding him in pain and lecturing him, I had forgotten to place my wallet back in my pocket where I always kept it.

Shit.

"Did you lose it?" Sam asked.

"I left it on the table." I sighed in frustration.

I turned my attention to the cashier. "Sorry, we are going to have to come back, I left-"

"I got it." Sam declared as he pulled an envelope out of the pocket in his sweat pants.

"What?" I asked.

My little brother sent me a nervous look before pulling out several bills and handing them to the cashier.

I gawked at the wad of cash I could see folded up inside the envelop in the teen's hand.

I swallowed down my questions and simply grabbed the bags of groceries. Sam wrestled a couple bags from my hold, which was about all the kid could manage with his one hand, and I took the rest and headed for the car.

I was tempted to march ahead, show Sam how unimpressed I was with catching him in his most recent lie, but I knew that if I did he would probably hurt himself trying to keep up.

And no matter how pissed I was at my little brother, I would never intentionally hurt him.

Never.

"Dean, I-

"Shut-up Sam."

Just because I didn't want him to get hurt, didn't mean I had to be nice.

For the first time, it what might have been the kid's entire life. He actually did shut-up.

We loaded the groceries into the Impala and then loaded ourselves in. The drive back to the hotel was silent as was most of the time we spend unloading the items from the bags. That was, until my little brother thought it would be a good idea for him to try and pick up the case of pop and get it into the fridge. Something the fourteen year-old could have done last week, when he had the use of both his legs.

"Leave it Sam." I ordered as I finished stalking the cupboards with junk food.

Typical to the teenager's behaviour, he gave no reaction to my demand, and continued to struggle with the heavy case.

"I'll get it. Just put it down." I instructed impatiently.

Sam proceeded to try and lift the box of twenty-four cans of root beer on the fridge shelf while attempting to maintain his sensitive balance.

'Attempting' being the operative word.

A tad too much pressure must have been placed on the injured limb, and without the help of the cane that was currently discarded to the side, his leg buckled.

I lunged forward, but my fingers only brushed up against the fabric of my little brother's shirt as he went tumbling to the ground.

Sam cried out as his body came in contact with the unforgiving tile.

"Sammy." I called, dropping down beside him.

"I'm okay, I'm okay." He stated, although it would have been more reassuring had it not be muttered out through clenched teeth.

I gripped the teen's shoulders and pulled him up into a sitting position, carefully straightening his leg before squatting down in front of him and studying his expression.

Lines of pain patterned Sam's young face, but his breath was already evening out as his grip around his thigh began to loosen.

"Dammit Sam!" I cursed. My brother's eyes shot up to my face and he scowled.

"I told you I had it. What the hell were you doing?"

"I was trying to help you! Just like I was when I skipped my meds or when I took the job! I thought I was being helpful! But apparently all I keep doing is pissing you off!" Sam shouted.

I frowned, that was not the reaction I had expected. I figured he'd get defensive or upset. The anger threw me off a little.

"What are you talking about, what job?" I questioned, lowering my tone and watching the aggravation fade from my brother's expression in response.

He took a deep calming breath, his hazel eyes staring earnestly into my green ones as he began to speak.

"On Monday I went in to the lobby to get towels."

I nodded, because that much I knew.

"While I was in there the lady at the desk, the one who I told you about earlier, the managers wife?"

I nodded again in comprehension.

"She was having trouble figuring out how to use the computer, so I offered to help. I just answered emails and stuff, nothing difficult. Anyway, I would go in every day to help. I'd leave a little after you every morning and then I usually finished there around five."

My eyebrows rose at the new information.

"And I know what you're going to say, about CPS and all that, but really Dean she was just this nice old woman and I knew that she wouldn't go calling anyone." He insisted.

I bit my tongue. Sam was trusting by nature, and it was on of the many things I admired of him and had no intention of changing. Although I wished he would be a little more cautious, I was wary enough for the both of us.

"Anyway, she offered to pay me for my time." My brother explained, as he pulled the envelop from his pocket and held it out toward me.

I took the package and opened it up, thumbing through the bills inside.

"Three hundred and seventy-five dollars." Sam announced.

I eyed the kid, unable to miss the spark of pride in his eyes.

"She over-paid me, but she wouldn't let me give any of it back." He continued with a shrug.

"So what are you planning to do with your new-found riches Ebenezer." I joked, closing the envelop and handing it back to the teen.

Sam shook his head and pushed the money away.

"It's for you."

"What? No way man, you earned it. It's yours." I declared, my arm outstretched waiting for the kid to take the envelope.

"You're right. I earned it, and I want you to have it." My little brother insisted, pushing my hand away.

"No way dude. Come on, just imagine how many books you could buy with this cash you little dork." I pointed out, hoping to pique my brother's interest.

"You said it was my money."

I nodded.

"Then it's me who gets to decide what to do with it. And I want you to take it."

"Sa-

"I want you to use it to help with my medical bills and my medication."

"No come on-

"And I want you to buy a ticket to go see Metallica." Sam finished, his face completely serious as he stared at me imploringly.

I was speechless.

Sam had spent his week earning this money, and not only did he want to give it to me, the little bitch wanted m to use some of it to buy something for myself.

God this kid.

This damn kid with his huge heart.

"Sammy, I appreciate this, I really do. But I already told you not to worry about the bills or the money for your medication. I got it all covered kiddo." I explained softly.

Sam released an exasperated sigh.

"Yeah I know, but they are my bills, so it's only fair that you use my money to pay for them."

I shook my head.

"That's where your wrong Sam. You are my little brother and it is my job to take care of you, and that includes paying for whatever it is you need."

"But I can help Dean!" Sam exclaimed, almost pleadingly.

"Sammy, I know you can. I never once questioned whether or not you were capable! You just don't need to."

My little brother huffed in frustration.

"Fine. Don't use it for my medication. Just for a Metallica ticket."

Before I could interrupt, Sam continued.

"I looked it up, they are going to be in Indianapolis in a couple weeks, we'll still be in town and that's only a couple hours away!"

I smiled, because of course the little geek did his research.

"Sam, I'm not going to use your money." I sighed, not sure how else to argue my point.

It was my job to take care of the little squirt, not the other way around.

My little brother hung his head, defeat written across his features. My heart clenched at the sight.

"C'mon buddy, let's get you up." I suggested, tossing the envelope of my brother's money onto the counter before gripping his arms and pulling him up.

Sam grimaced at the movement, biting down on his lip as his leg took some of his weight. I grabbed the cane and placed it in his hand, waiting for the kid to find his balance.

"Couch or bed?" I asked.

"Couch." Sam answered steadily.

"I swear you've fallen more times in the past couple weeks then you did when you were learning to walk." I joked, thinking back to a much tinnier little brother whose little fingers would clutch my hands as I guided him slowly across the motel room of the week; his chubby little legs taking one teetering step after another as he giggled in glee.

Sam smirked at my remark, his dimples making a flash appearance as we arrived at the couch.

I held onto him as he dropped down, pulling his leg up after him and stretching across the furniture.

I moved to go finish unpacking the rest of the food and pick the case of root beer up off the kitchen floor.

But the thin finger that snagged my wrist had me turning back toward my kid brother.

"If you don't buy a concert ticket, I'm buying one for you." He stated assertively.

"Sam, we just went over this." I grumbled, trying to tug my arm away.

But the teen's grip only tightened, but his voice was softer when he spoke.

"You always make everything better for me. Why can't I do the same for you? Please Dean. Just this once...please let me better for you."

And as if the gentle plea wasn't enough, my kid stares up at me from underneath his shaggy hair, with those soulful puppy dog eyes.

Well fuck.

And just as I'm thinking up some reason why I can't accept the money, why it's not Sam's job to take care of something, it hits me.

I'm not the only one who wants my brother to be happy. I'm not the only one who wants to erase my brother's worries and make life just a little big better for him.

Sam wants all the same things, and he wants them for me.

How would I feel if the kid turned down every attempt I made to help him?

How much would it hurt me to have him shrug off every gift I gave him?

I couldn't even imagine.

Sam had always accepted everything I did for him, and he always did it gratefully.

God I was such an idiot.

"Okay." I replied.

Sam's eyes grew big in surprise.

"You'll take the cash?" He asked in awe.

"I'll take enough for the concert ticket. The rest is yours." I announced adamantly.

Sam looked pensive for a moment before responding.

"Ours, the rest is ours. We will find someway that both of us can use it."

It was a compromise, and the best I was going to get out of this stubborn little bugger.

"Deal."

The grin I received in return was accented with two dimples and sparkling eyes; it would have melted the hardest of hearts and managed to turn mine into mush in two-seconds flat.

Alright, enough of this girly-emo-crap.

"You could come to the concert with me." I said with a smirk, knowing the exact reaction I was about to receive.

Sam screwed up his face in disgust.

"And spend a perfectly good evening listening to that crap, not to mentions probably blowing my eardrums. I think I'll pass."

I chuckled at the response and messed up my little brother's long locks.

"You just don't know how to have fun."

"I know how to have fun, and it does not involve going deaf." Sam defended, swatting my hand away as he fixed his hair.

"Whatever you say princess. Now you going to let me go clean-up your mess now?" I questioned, tugging lightly at my arm, my wrist still locked in the kid's grip.

"Mess? It's a case of pop Dean, don't be dramatic." He mocked, as he released his hold.

"Oh yeah, cause I'm the dramatic one, okay Samantha." I snorted, making my way back to the kitchen.

"You sure are...Deanifer."

I turned around, squinting at my little brother.

"Deanifer? Really?"

"What you don't like it? How about Deanily, or Deanielle, or Deanifred, or-

"Alright I get it!" I hollered, hiding my snicker as I placed the soda in the fridge.

I don't know what I did to deserve a little brother like Sam.

A little brother who cares about me just as much as I care about him.

A little brother who wants to take care of me like I do him.

A little brother who is willing to sacrifice for me.

A little brother who let's me look after him.

A little brother with the biggest damn heart on the planet.

A little brother who doesn't blame me for what happened to him, even when it's my fault.

Who wants me to be happy.

And who loves me just as much as I love him.

I don't know what I did to deserve Sam.

But I knew that I would do anything to keep him with me.

I needed to do better at protecting him.

This kind of thing could not happen again.

Sammy deserved to be protected.

And I knew I'd never be able to live with myself if something happened to him.

Him getting injured was bad enough, I couldn't imagine if it had been worse.

Actually I had imagined; while Sam had been in the hospital, and every time I saw him struggling through physical therapy or limping around with his cane, my imagination had gone wild.

And I had come to a very clear conclusion.

I wouldn't survive without my little brother.

I wouldn't be able to live without Sammy in the world.

I couldn't do it.

That much was clear.

* * *

Alright, so the plan didn't go exactly like I had imagined, but at least Dean had finally agreed to use some of the money on Metallica concert tickets.

That would have to be enough for now.

And even as I watched him unloading the rest of the groceries, he was smiling, and was more at ease.

That was another win.

Sure my older brother was probably still blaming himself for my injury, but that was just Dean, and it was part of who he was. I don't think that will ever change.

He will always see it as his responsibility to look out for me, and therefor will always take my injuries as a result of his personal failure.

And while that was total crap, and completely unfair.

It was just how my big brother operated.

So I would do my best to not get hurt and I would be sure that Dean knew that while he may blame himself, I don't blame him.

I would do my best to make sure he knew how much I cared for him.

I would do my best to be the best little brother that I could, because he deserved that.

"Hey Sam, if you were working until five all week, then why were you hanging out in the room in the afternoon?" The older teen questioned from across the room as he turned to face me.

I smirked, because I had been waiting for my older brother to connect those dots.

"How would you know if I was in the room at all during the afternoon?" I asked, feigning complete and total innocence.

Dean's eyes got big as he realized that he had just practically confessed to being a worried mother-hen.

"Nevermind." He grumbled, turning back toward the kitchen.

I released a laugh at my brother's petulant response.

I didn't deserve and older brother like Dean.

A big brother who was so protective.

A big brother who took care of me.

A big brother who was the bravest person I knew.

A big brother who always thought of my needs before his own.

A big brother big brother who would do anything for me.

A big brother who sacrificed for me.

A big brother who had every reason to be selfish, but alway put me first.

Who was always there for me no matter what.

And who loved me more than anything.

I didn't know what I would do without Dean.

And I didn't ever want to find out.

I needed him more than I could ever explain.

I had always needed my big brother.

And I always would.

That much was perfectly clear.

* * *

Notes: Thoughts? Feelings? Opinions? Feedback? Not that I'm begging... Thanks for reading! Please comment/review if you have a spare second! - Sam

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment if you have a moment! - Sam


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